


Who Wants To Live Forever

by FlyingAnita



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, M/M, Sweet, a morning with the boys, i know nothing about coding so don't @ me, self-love is not worrying about something that doesn't matter, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 08:10:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14972870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingAnita/pseuds/FlyingAnita
Summary: Clark has been living with Bruce for a few years. The comfort they’re able to find in each other’s presence is fascinating.





	Who Wants To Live Forever

SUNDAY, 5:15 AM

  


Clark’s sat on the grossly modern sofa in Bruce’s room, in front of the glass fireplace, laptop balanced tentatively on one knee. Bruce is in his second difficult month of trying to teach Clark how to code, and Clark’s currently in the process of hacking the new traffic cameras as they go online in the theatre district, one by one.

  


Bruce promises him that he has fragile permission from friends at the GPD, and Clark’s still not entirely sure he believes that. But he started to care less and less about the legality of the means as he started to see more and more good coming from it. Stop a mugging there, prevent a rape or two, and he could see why supervision was important.

  


He wasn’t in love with the process quite yet, but he was in love with the sentiment, and the man behind it.

  


Bruce is in the bathroom brushing his teeth with the door open. Alfred can be heard shuffling about in the kitchen, cleaning up for breakfast.

  


Clark has a mostly discarded cup of coffee sitting on the low coffee table in front of him. Things out the window are still, night nearly done. Clark can see the heat of the sun approaching the horizon, smell the wet grass as dew starts to hint its way into existence.

  


Bruce walks over to him, without even taking the brush out of his mouth, and leans over his shoulders. While he’s hunched over him, Clark can lean his head back against his shoulder, comfortable. Bruce scans the code for a few long moments, toothbrush still in his mouth and breathing even as he searches for flaws in the text. He finally reaches over and moves one character a place to the right. 

  


Upon review, Clark might’ve found that the change was completely inconsequential and that the minor textframe shift wouldn’t have made a difference in the end result.

  


He didn’t check.

  


Instead, he reaches up and runs his hand gently over the underside of Bruce’s chin.

  


“You need to shave.”

  


Bruce raises one sharp eyebrow down at him. He leans down and pecks Clark on the mouth, toothpaste and all.

  


Clark absentmindedly wipes his mouth with the napkin pinned under his coffee and mumbles “That’s disgusting” as he goes back to the code.

  


Bruce chuckles and goes to the sink to spit.

  


As he finishes a few more lines of code, Bruce pulls his suit of the day out of the closet and lays it out, pulling his costume together piece by piece. Clark watches with half an interested heart and a small smile. He shuts the laptop and pushes it onto the cushion next to him.

  


If he wrinkles something as he crawls onto the opposite side of the bed, Bruce doesn’t mention it. He just keeps dressing.

  


Clark thinks that if he tried hard enough, he could be worried about the fact that he hadn’t seen the man sleep in over 36 hours. On the other hand, worrying wouldn’t do either of them any good. So Clark leaves it untouched.

  


He doesn’t have to go into the office today, so he lets himself doze on the pillows for the three minutes it takes for Alfred to finish breakfast and knock on the door.

  


Bruce says, “We’re up,” and ties his tie in the mirror.

  


Clark, in bare feet, goes out into the kitchen and sits down at the table, smiling up to Alfred as he sets eggs, waffles, and fresh coffee down in front of him.

  


“Thanks, Alfred.”

  


He nods. “Master Kent.”

  


The title stopped bothering him about a year ago. Alfred hadn’t been anything but thrilled to have a steadier companion in the house.

  


Clark is almost done eating by the time Bruce emerges with the morning’s paper and fixed hair. He sits down next to Clark, and a plate appears in front of him, too. He murmurs with Alfred about something that Clark tunes out as he drains the last of his mug and goes to put the dishes in the sink.

  


Alfred retreats, presumably to the cave, to work on, maybe something important. He’ll be down to help after Bruce gets out of the house.

  


Clark wraps his arms around Bruce’s shoulders and presses a silver kiss behind his ear. If he whispers “I love you,” then that’s between him and the man who’s currently learning how to mutter it back.

**Author's Note:**

> titled after the song by Queen of the same
> 
> thank you for reading ! :)


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